


Did he mention my name?

by eerian_sadow



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: 2016 pj anniversary challenge, Community: prowlxjazz, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: When they met on the transport, they had no idea how important the other mech would become in their lives.





	1. Evening Train

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [anniversarychallenge16](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anniversarychallenge16) collection. 



> this is for the 2016 Anniversary challenge on livejournal's ProwlxJazz community. fills the prompt: Two Ships Passing

Prowl stepped into the last public transport of the cycle, relieved to find it nearly empty--only one other mech occupied the cabin, a visored mech with a bag wrapped around one hand and an oddly-shaped case on the seat next to him. He was exhausted after working a triple shift, and wanted nothing more than to get off his feet and rest as he was carried to the station near his apartment. 

“Evenin’ officer,” the visored mech said softly. 

“Good evening,” Prowl replied, taking a seat and letting his wings relax into the built-in supports.

The visored mech opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but closed it as the Enforcer watched. Prowl wasn't sure what the other mech had wanted or expected, but he was really too tired to ask and find out.

The transport lifted off with a gentle sway a few moments later and the Enforcer offlined his optics, hoping to relax further as they flew.

Instead, just as they should have reached cruising altitude, the transport pitched wildly, pressing Prowl into the cabinet wall. He heard the other mech swear loudly and reactivated his optics in time to see the case fly off the seat it had been resting on and out into the walkway between them.

The visored mech couldn't reach it without leaving his seat and endangering himself, and he looked distressed. Before he was truly aware of it, Prowl was reacting the way he would to any citizen in distress.

One arm shot out to grab the case and the other anchored him as he extended his body toward the flying object. His hand wrapped around the narrow section that had been near the top on the seat and he pulled the case in close to his chest and the shuttle tipped again. Prowl’s back slammed into the seat at an awkward angle as the transport attempted to right itself, but the case remained safely against his chest.

The visored mech was staring at him with an expression that was somewhere between shock and relief as an automated system droned apologies about the turbulence in the background. “You caught it!”

“You seemed upset.” Prowl pulled himself to his feet as the transport leveled out and extended the case to its owner. “It must be very important to you.”

The visored mech took the case and opened it immediately, revealing an old-looking musical instrument. “Aside from needing it for work, this guitar belonged to my sire and his sire before that. It's nothing fancy, but it's priceless to my family.”

“Then I am glad to have been of service. I would hate for your family to lose an heirloom or for you to lose your job.” The Enforcer sat back down with a small smile.

“Thanks. I mean that.”

“You are welcome.”

“Can I play you something in return?” The question was sudden, but the visored mech looked serious. “To say thanks, I mean.”

“I do not feel that you owe me anything.” He wasn't sure that playing music on the transport was a good idea, but there were no other passengers to disturb currently, and the other mech had offered freely. “But I would enjoy hearing this guitar. I do not believe I am familiar with its sound.”

The visored mech’s expression shifted into a smile. “Mech, you're in for a treat!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz let himself smile as he watched the Enforcer get off the transport at the second to last stop. The mech moved with a noticeably lighter step as he moved off into the darkness, and the visored mech was glad that he had enjoyed the music.

The Praxian had been all right, for a badge.

After the doors closed and he was lifted back into the air, Jazz noticed a few loose credit chits laying on the seat where the Enforcer had been and his smile widened. Busking on a public transport was illegal--and it had only taken one fine to ram that point home clearly after he’d come to Praxus--but the officer had still cared enough to leave him a tip despite that.

The mech was definitely all right. Maybe even despite the badge.


	2. Trust Me

The lights the detectives and the forensics crew had set up in the alley were almost blinding. Jazz might have needed to dial the sensitivity down in his optical sensors if his visor hadn't already corrected for it, and he could tell that several of the employees had done just that and were effectively unable to see.

Or to flee, if the badges decided that everyone at the club was responsible for this crime. He'd never seen _that_ particular abuse of power in Praxus, but Kaon’s practices had a way of becoming infectious.

Just in case, Jazz recorded every badge number he could see and every name he heard.

“If I could have everyone’s attention!” The voice was raised, but not to a truly shouting level, and was vaguely familiar. Jazz turned toward it, intent on recording another ID number, and was surprised to see the Enforcer who had saved his guitar in the transport the night of the last storm. “Many of you have not yet given a statement or answered the questions my team is asking. We cannot move forward without your cooperation. If you can provide assistance, please meet with an officer as quickly as possible.”

No one in the crowd of employees moved. The Enforcer’s wings drooped with disappointment. Jazz was surprised to realize that bothered him.

“Please, even just the victim’s designation will help.”

“Hey, hero.” The musician stepped forward before he could change his mind. “It ain't that we don't want to talk to you. But look at us. We’re all immigrants and most of us are broke, which were two things that earned you a beat down in Kaon or Polyhex. The Enforcers where we came from didn’t give us a reason to trust any of you.”

The Praxian tilted his head quizzically. “But you are willing?”

“You're decent. You treated me good that night on the transport.” Jazz shrugged. “I wouldn't talk to the others, probably. But you're all right.”

“Jazz!” One of the club owners hissed at him and mimed welding his lips closed.

The Enforcer looked over the crowd before nodding. “I understand. Will you please step aside with me, so that we may have some privacy? I promise that we will stay in view of your coworkers.”

Sudden fear thrummed through his lines, but Jazz nodded anyway. The sooner _someone_ talked, the sooner they could get home. “One condition.”

“Name it.” 

“I want your designation. Not your comm call sign, your actual name.”

“Detective Prowl,” the Enforcer answered immediately. “Homicide unit, second precinct. I assume that you have already recorded my badge number from my sensory wings.”

“I did, yeah.” Jazz filed the information away, knowing the others were all doing the same. “All right, let's do this.”

“This way, please.” Detective Prowl turned and walked toward the department shuttle that had brought the Enforcers in after the body had been found. The musician followed nervously.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl did his best to keep his wings held at their usual confident angle and not let any of the others on the team know just how nervous he was. This mech had proven trustworthy in the past, but for all the neighborhood’s fear of Enforcers, they did outnumber them almost four to one. If someone decided that the musician needed protection from them, there could be a riot in very short order.

“Look, you ain't gotta be scared of them,” the visored mech said softly, just barely audible over the clamor of vehicles, shouts and fearful commentary. “Nobody’s gonna try anything; none of them can afford to not go home in the morning. And we’re all trying damn hard to be better than where we came from.”

The enforcer did his best to cover his surprise at the other mech’s perceptiveness. “Despite your assurance, I cannot help but calculate the odds if they decide that you need protection from me.”

“You have no idea how flattering that is.” The musician grinned. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, hero.”

Prowl felt his left wing give an involuntary twitch of annoyance at the nickname, but let it go. They had more important things to worry about tonight. “While I appreciate that sentiment, I believe we have business to discuss.”

“Sure, sure. Body in the alley now, sensitivity training later.”

“As you say.” The Praxian pulled out a data pad and stylus. “Please state your full designation.”

“Everyone just calls me Jazz, but it’s easier for everyone if I write the whole thing down for you. My carrier was the really creative type.” Jazz extended his hand for the data pad. “Trust me.”

“Very well.” Prowl handed the pad and stylus to the other bot. He waited patiently as the other mech wrote down his naming glyph, growing more and more surprised as the kliks passed and Jazz was still drawing. 

“I am really, really sure there’s only one mech with that glyph on the planet,” he said a full groon later, handing the pad back. “But I put the short version on there for you, too. Use that, if you gotta ask around for me later.”

Prowl stared at the overly complicated glyph for a few kliks before nodding. “Thank you. Is there a comm code I can put down in case a call is simpler?”

Jazz nodded and gave him a code--the one for the club, not a private line--and Prowl settled into the routine of questioning.


	3. courtrooms

Jazz paced up and down the hall in front of the courtroom, trying to look bored instead of nervous as he waited to be called in. The lawyer that had been assigned to his brother had done his best to prepare him, but it was still the musician’s first time in a courtroom or as a witness. He was not ready to go in by any means. Knowing the steps of the trial didn’t cover all the questions he would be asked or promise to keep Ricochet out of jail.

“Jazz?” The visored mech tried not to tense at the sound of the Enforcer’s voice. Prowl was just about the last mech he wanted to see right now, especially if he ended up being involved in the trial, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I gotta give witness testimony in there soon.” Jazz pointed at the door as he turned around to face the other mech.

Prowl nodded. “Witness testimony is never easy. Is this your first time in a Praxian court?”

“In any court.” The musician felt his shoulders slump. “Is it normal to be so nervous you want to purge your tanks?”

“Incredibly normal. I don’t believe I lost that feeling until I had been on the witness stand four or five times.”

Jazz was more than a little surprised. The Enforcer seemed so calm and put together that it was hard to believe.

“May I give you a bit of advice my mentor gave me while I was waiting during my first trial?” The Praxian asked when Jazz didn’t reply.

“Sure.”

“Don’t think about the trial. Think about something you enjoy, or the meal you will go an have afterward, or even someone you find yourself attracted to. But don’t think about the trial. When you aren't hyper-focused on it, it’s easier to stay calm.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Kind of like prepping for a concert.” Despite his worry, Jazz smiled. “Thanks, hero.”

“You are welcome.” Prowl returned the smile. “If there is any other way I can be of assistance…?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Just gotta get through it, you know?” The visored mech let his smile fade. “I’ve still got your comm code from that time at the club if I need you, though.”

Prowl’s wings perked up slightly at the words. “I am glad. That line is available any time.”

“Good to know, but I hope I never need it.” 

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl nodded at Jazz’s words, though he _did_ hope the other mech would call him if he was needed. He liked the musician’s clever wit and sharp perceptions. “I’m afraid I must go now. I have to be in court myself in a few groons.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll write some music or something while i’m waiting.” Jazz shrugged, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself that he would be all right. “Thanks again, hero. I’ll be all right.”

The enforcer felt his wings twitch at the nickname and he paused before walking away. “Jazz, why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Because. You saved my life that night in the shuttle.”

Jazz said nothing else, and Prowl pondered the statement as he made his way to his own courtroom.


	4. citizen

When he walked up to the immigration office, there was an extra pair of badges flanking the door in addition to the usual security mechs. Their presence made his cables tense with worry--fear, if he was honest with himself--and Jazz almost turned around to walk away. 

He couldn't skip this appointment, though. Being deported back to Kaon now would be almost certain death. The gangs did bad things to a bot who managed to get out and was unfortunate enough to go back, and the Enforcers let them.

Going back wasn't an option, so he continued to the door and through it with a respectful nod to the badges. He had to war with all his Kaon-born instincts again, when he saw the new security checkpoint set up in the main lobby. 

“Can I help you?” The Enforcer standing at the checkpoint asked.

“I have an appointment with my advocate in ten groons.” Jazz forced himself to continue forward.

“Name?” The Enforcer gestured for him to step into a portable body scanner.

“Jazz.” The musician did as instructed and let the machine check him for weapons. “Do you need my ID card?”

“Please.” The badge gestured him out of the scanner and held a hand out for his identification. Jazz pulled it from his subspace and handed it to the other mech as he stepped onto the floor.

“Who is your immigration advocate?” The Enforcer swiped his identification card across a reader in his forearm. 

“Sunwing.”

“Thank you. Your identity has been verified.” The mech handed Jazz his ID and gestured to a hallway on the left hand side of the lobby. “Follow this hall to room seven five. All of Advocate Sunwing’s appointments have been reassigned there.”

“Uh, thanks.” Jazz wanted to ask what was going on, but even with all of his mostly-positive interaction with the Praxian Enforcers, he still didn't trust that this mech would tell him the truth.

Instead, he just followed the badge’s instructions and walked down the hallway. When he found room seventy five, he knocked hesitantly on the closed door.

“Enter.” The voice on the other side was muffled, but the single word sounded both tired and frustrated.

For the third time this trip, he almost turned around and left. That wasn’t Sunwing inside room seventy five, and he didn’t some stranger taking out their frustrations on him. But the threat of deportation was still very real, so he touched the pad that opened the door.

Detective Prowl was looking at him from the desk, blinking in surprise. “Jazz? I didn’t see you in Sunwing’s appointment calendar.”

“Uh. Hey, hero. And I’m not sure she remembered to write me down today. We’ve had to bump our appointments all over this meta-cycle.” The visored mech stepped into the room and let the door close behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Advocate Sunwing was assaulted this morning, just after arriving in her office. She is in critical condition at Praxus Medical, but the medics are unsure if she will survive.”

“Primus.” Jazz sat down in chair near the desk. “She’s hopelessly optimistic, but she’s a good spark. Why would someone want to hurt her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know the details of the case, as it’s being handled by the first precinct.” Prowl sighed and picked up a data pad. “All I know is that they have detained one person of interest and are looking for a second.”

The musician nodded. “But if you ain’t handling the case, why are you here?”

Prowl gave him a rueful smile and slid the data pad across the desk to him. “Apparently I’ve developed something of a trustworthy reputation among the immigrant population. I was tapped to deliver the bad news to everyone and to try and connect them with new advocates, since most of you seem to be willing to listen to what I say at the very least.”

“Huh.” Jazz thought about it for a moment before realizing that he was likely the reason others had begun to believe Prowl was a far cry from the Enforcers in their own corrupted city-states. “Never thought any Kaonite would trust an Enforcer as far as he could throw one.”

“I blame you,” The detective replied, the seriousness of his tone contrasted by the warmth of a real smile. “Now, if you can fill out that form so that we can finish the tedious work. Sunwing has four more appointments in her calendar today.”

“You Praxians and all your datawork.” Despite the situation, Jazz returned the smile. Then he looked down and the pad and started typing. “When I first got here, my advocate was Sureshock. I didn’t like him much, but he’s good at his job and I could probably finish the citizenship process with him.”

“You’re trying to become a citizen of Praxus?” Something in Prowl’s tone made Jazz look up again. He couldn’t say how, but the Enforcer’s smile had shifted from amusement to joyous. Prowl was practically _beaming_ happiness.

That level of happiness from someone who didn’t even really know him felt good, and affirmed his decision. “Yeah, I am.”


	5. dust and smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't happy. I'm sorry. *meekly offers tissues*

Praxus was gone.

There had been no real warning, no time to evacuate or even hide in the ancient tunnels under the city. Everyone had scoffed at the rebels, criticizing their movement and expecting them to fade away at time. Even he had thought of them as nothing more than an overly large gang.

How naive they had all been to underestimate these Decepticons.

The youngling in his arms whined in his recharge as Prowl walked through the room where the disaster response teams were processing the all too few survivors. He had tried to count as they streamed in, but between the distressed youngling he had sworn to protect and the way many frames and color schemes looked the same under a layer of crystal dust, he wasn’t sure if there were five or six hundred. Out of a city with a population of nearly eight hundred thousand.

Prowl’s spark felt as shattered as they city, and he knew the same haunted look was in his optics that he could see all around him. The emotional fallout would catch up with him soon, and he would have to find a place to grieve where someone could look after little Bluestreak, but until then he clung to what he had left: his job and his duty to ensure that all of his people were safe.

“Name?” Prowl barely registered the aid worker as he passed; their questions were route and he had memorized them when they processed the few Enforcers who had survived in the second precinct. The reply, however, pulled him to a stop.

“Jazz.”

The enforcer paused to take a better look around the room, and spotted several more of the immigrants that had lived in his jurisdiction. Mingled in with them were staff from the immigration offices and a few shopkeepers from the same neighborhood.

“Do you have your identification, Jazz?”

“No. I lost it in the attack.” Prowl returned his focus to the musician in time to see his shoulders slump.

The disaster relief agent simply nodded. She had likely heard this story as many times as Prowl had by now. “What city is your citizenship registered in, Jazz? We will contact them for a replacement identification card immediately.”

“Praxus,” Prowl interrupted, laying a hand on Jazz’s shoulder before the visored mech could reply. After today, they would likely send him back to Kaon if he told them the truth.

The agent looked from the musician to the Enforcer. Prowl flared his wings, daring her to argue with him. “Praxus.”

“Yes. His citizenship is likely not yet in the registry, as there was no notary in the office today.”

“I see.” The femme gave them both a calculating look, but checked the appropriate box on her data pad. “And were you his advocate, officer?”

“Detective,” he corrected absently. “Sureshock was his advocate, if he has survived.”

“All right.” The agent made a note, then stood up and called loudly, “Is there an Advocate Sureshock here?”

The room was quiet for a moment before a mech replied, “Here!”

“Step forward please, Advocate!” They waited, Jazz trembling beneath Prowl’s hand as the other Praxian made his way through the crowd to the table. Once he was standing with them, the agent pinned him with a firm look. “Advocate, this mech claims he is a citizen of Praxus and that you were his advocate. Is that the case?”

Sureshock nodded firmly without even looking at Jazz or Prowl. “It is. He took the oath of citizenship this morning just before the attack. I am an advocate for five other mechanisms in this room as well, and can verify that they are also Praxian citizens.”

The femme sighed and sat back down. “Thank you, Advocate. If you stay here, I’ll process you next so that you can assist us with verifying citizenship claims.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Finally Sureshock turned and looked at both of them, and Prowl thought he looked almost grateful. “Detective, you should take your little one somewhere quieter to rest.”

“Once Jazz has finished processing. I think I may require his assistance once Bluestreak wakes.”

“Here you are, gentlemechs.” The femme slid a data pad across the table and set another one on top of a precarious stack. “Your documentation is in order now, and you should be on your way to a housing facility in Iacon soon.”

Prowl was puzzled at the speed but he didn’t question it. Jazz simply reached otu and took the pad before turning away from the table and picking up his battered guitar case from the floor.”

“Thanks, hero.” The visored mech let the Enforcer guide him to an alcove that was dark and mostly empty. “Thought I was going back for sure.”

“May I see your information?” Prowl asked as they sat down as far from a sleeping mech as they could and still be out of plain view.

“Sure.” Jazz handed the pad over. Then he turned his attention to the guitar case and the instrument inside. “You got an adhesive tape in your subspace? This whole side seam needs fixed.”

“I do not, but I would wager one of the medics will have a supply.” Prowl pulled up Jazz’s aid documents as Bluestreak whined again and shifted in his recharge. He blinked in surprise as he read through it. “She registered you as my spouse.”

“What, really?” Teh musician looked away from his guitar so that he could see the data pad the Praxian tipped toward him. “Huh, she really did. Well, hero, hope you don’t mind being stuck with me like that.”

Prowl was surprised to realize that he did not. “I suppose the circumstances made sense, if only to keep us from making her job any more difficult.”

“Yeah.” Jazz sighed and pulled the guitar out of the case and began inspecting the instrument for damage. “So who’s the little bit?”

“This is Bluestreak. I promised his parent I would care for him before they passed on to the Well.” He deliberately neglected to mention how he had found Bluestreak and his parent, the adult melted into a horrific living shield around the youngling and Bluestreak screaming in terror. “How did you survive?”

“I really was at the immigration office again this morning. When the bombs started going off, everyone from Kaon started running for the basement. It’s one of those safety things our parents drilled into us before we could even walk.” Jazz shrugged one shoulder. “We dragged everyone else we could get our hands on with us.”

“I am grateful for that.”

“Me too.”


	6. Iacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:
> 
> orbital cycle = one local year

Their apartment in Iacon would have been too small for all three of them if they were all in it together very often. Prowl and Bluestreak were gone twice as often as Jazz was, though, with therapy appointments and medical visits or job interviews and school visits. The musician had been better off in regards to employment, being able to busk on a corner downtown until he could secure a few gigs in the local club scene.

Their lives fell into a routine despite that, with an ever-changing patchwork of notes put in their shared calendar--sometimes in Bluestreak’s shaky handwriting--and Jazz spending the days sleeping in the larger berthroom while Prowl used it at night. They lived that way for almost an entire orbital cycle before Prowl and Jazz really had a chance to sit down and talk again.

It was mid-morning and Prowl was sitting at the tiny table in the sitting room when Jazz stepped through the door. That was odd enough, but the Praxian-born mech looked exhausted and a little worried. “Hey, hero. What’s wrong?”

The Enforcer’s wings twitched in irritation at the nickname like they always did, and Prowl looked up at him with the faintest smile. “Good, you’re home. I wasn’t sure what time you usually came in.”

“Usually not long after you take Blue to school and head off to the temp agency. But there was a crash on my way home and they had to route everyone around the long way.” Jazz set his guitar case down and followed it with the flute he was learning to play. “It was a pain, and I’m actually later than I wanted to be. Won’t have time for much of a nap before I meet the manager of that new club off the docks.”

“Hopefully what I wish to speak with you about will not take much more of your time, then.” Prowl sighed softly and his wings drooped down against the back of the chair. 

“Is this about that divorce you offered me again?” The visored mech pulled out a second chair and sat down. “Cause I think you and I both know that ain’t gonna work out for you or Blue right now.”

“No, it’s not. Though I would still do it, if you wanted. You do not need to feel tied to me because of what is technically a clerical error.” The Enforcer looked back down at the table. “I want to talk with you about my career opportunities.”

“Okay.”

“I… I am seriously considering enlisting in the Elite Guard.” Prowl’s wings shifted nervously as he spoke. “But if I do so, I cannot take Bluestreak to basic training. I would have to leave him in your care.”

“Then I definitely better get that job at the new club. Can’t leave the little bit to get to school alone.” Jazz reached out and took the other mech’s hand. When the Enforcer looked up at him, he smiled softly. “Prowl, you gotta do what feels right. I know that not a single Enforcer or Security unit in this city wants to hire a refugee, and I know how hard that’s been on you.”

“I promised that I would take care of Bluestreak,” the Praxian agreed, “And yet I have only been able to do so because you have steady work.”

“I haven’t minded, you know. Being out there every night meant that you got him to the best doctors and therapists possible. Now that you’ve got Blue’s solutions figured out, it’s time to work on your problems.” The musician squeezed Prowl’s hand gently. “I can take care of him and make appointments and get him to appointments and whatever else he needs. You go do what you need to do for yourself.”

“You would shoulder even more of a responsibility you did not take on, just like that?”

Jazz let his smile widen. “Yeah, just like that. I already did that, when I didn’t correct that relief worker after the attack. Us Praxians gotta stick together. Besides, being a freelance performer is probably the best job a bot could have and still take care of Bluestreak.”

Prowl shuttered his optics and sighed again, though this time it sounded like relief. “Thank you, Jazz.”

“Anytime, mech. I mean that.” The musician stood up and tugged the Enforcer’s hand to encourage him to stand, too. “Now, come on. You look about twelve times more exhausted than I feel. We can both catch a nap before the school shuttle comes back to drop Blue off.”

Prowl blinked at him before returning Jazz’s smile. “Yes, creator.”


	7. hope and trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1:
> 
> The euphoria cocktail Jazz mentions in this chapter is a small, very long burning chemical bomb that can be made from cleaning chemicals and anything that makes enough of a spark to ignite them. Cities outside of Kaon call them arsonist's dreams or Pitfire as well.

“Prowl, you’re home!” Bluestreak launched away from Jazz’s side with all the speed of a racer-in-training and barrelled full speed into the older Praxian.

Prowl laughed and wrapped his arms around the young mech as he stumbled back a step, a sound that Jazz wasn’t sure he had heard since well before Praxus was destroyed. “Well, not yet, youngling. I believe we’re still at the transport station.”

“You know what I mean.” The younger Praxian leaned back from Prowl’s chest plates and grinned up at him. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” The former Enforcer hugged the youngling again, then looked to Jazz. “And I missed you, Jazz.”

“Hasn’t been the same without you here,” The musician replied with a smile. “Got used to all those little touches you left around the old place, and the new apartment ain’t got any of your personality.”

“Jazz, what did teacher say about using ain’t?” Bluestreak let Prowl tuck him in against his side as the two of them walked toward the visored mech. 

“That I’m too educated to talk like I was raised in the slums.” Jazz chuckled. “What’s getting me is that she’s got you thinking it, too. Prowl’ll tell you that I ain’t had a bit of actual school.”

Bluestreak looked from Jazz to Prowl and the older Praxian nodded. “It’s true. Any formal education Jazz received was at the immigration center after Sunwing became his advocate. Jazz knows a great many things, but he did not learn them in a classroom the way you and I have.”

“S’why I keep telling you to read more, bit.” The musician fell into step next to his family and they continued out of the transport station. “And to listen when Kup starts telling his old stories. He knows more than me and Prowl combined.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I still find it difficult to believe we can afford this place.” Prowl handed Jazz a crystal flute filled with bubbling energon and sat down next to him in a chair on the balcony. “Even on my Enforcer’s salary, an apartment this large would have cost three times what I made in a meta-cycle.”

“Three bathrooms, built-in wash racks, five hundred square meters of space, I know what you mean. But part of the price is because the only thing it’s close to is Blue’s school, which is great by the way. You’ll love his new teachers.” Jazz ran a thumb over the etching in the crystal, thinking of the day he’d found the set in a secondhand shop, before taking a sip of the energon. “But I’m also making a lot more at the club than you thought I would be. If Blue was going to public school, I would have been able to pay for this place with just my salary.”

“That’s good to know, if anything happens.” Prowl sighed and took a drink of his own energon. “If you can, though, I think it would be best if you can keep him in the same school.”

“Hey, being closer to the school is half the reason I settled on this place. The other half is this balcony with the great view of the stars.” The musician smiled. “And Kup likes Blue an awful lot, so I never have to worry about finding a sitter before work.”

“Good.” The former Enforcer sighed and sipped at his energon again. 

“So what else you thinking about, hero? Cause I know we already discussed plans for keeping Blue in this school, even if something happens to you out there.”

Prowl sighed again. “I am wondering if I can ask you a very personal question.”

“Well, we’ve got a joint bank account, we’re technically a mated pair and we’re raising a youngling together. I think that gives you the privilege of being able to ask personal questions.” Jazz tried to keep his tone light, despite knowing how serious Prowl was likely taking whatever he wanted to ask. “Besides, there can’t be much left that you don’t know about me by now.”

Slowly, the Praxian-built mech nodded. “You once told me that I saved your life the night we met. Since then, I have hoped you would tell me what that meant.”

The visored mech cycled his vents and looked down at the balcony floor for a moment. “Slag mech, that’s some ancient history now, isn’t it? But it’s true. I had nine or ten euphoria cocktails in my subspace and I was planning to take them all and use them as bargaining chips to join a Kaon gang in Praxus.”

“Jazz…” Prowl knew the level of damage a homemade weapon like that could do first hand.

The Kaon-built mech held up a hand. “Just let me get it out, yeah? This is kind of hard to even think about, especially now. But you know what I ran away from in Kaon, with the gangs and the Enforcers and all. When Ricochet and I got to Praxus, no one even gave us the time of day except the gangs there. All we wanted to do was get jobs and become better people, but either we were ignored or we were treated like we were less than drones. At least in Kaon I had a job cleaning the grime out of the energon processing equipment. I was ready to do anything to feel wanted again.”

The former enforcer reached out and took the musician’s hand when Jazz fell silent. He squeezed gently, hoping to encourage the other mech to keep talking.

“They’d been courting me for a while, the gangs I mean. Everyone wanted someone who had immigrated legally so that they could get into the more respectable parts of town where the good energon and the easy marks were. I’d told them all to get slagged so many times that I knew I’d need a good in. So I built the chemical bombs in a public washrack, just like they’d taught us in Kaon. I was about to call my contact with the Decepticons when you stepped into the transport.” Jazz chuckled softly. “If you hadn't been there, it could have been me blowing up the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“But how did I save you?” That was the part of the story the former Enforcer still didn’t understand.

“You were there, and you cared. About me, and my instrument and my music. You were offline on your feet that night, and you still saved my guitar. Just because I looked upset.” The visored mech squeezed Prowl’s hand tightly. “You showed me that there was a lot more to Praxus than I had seen in Little Kaon. And when I played, you said I had talent. That alone was enough to make me apply for one more job before I gave up. They started me at that club where you questioned me for that murder the very next day. I pulled the blasting caps out of the cocktails after that first night on stage.”

“I am still not certain that I understand, but I am glad that I ran into you that night more than ever now.”

“Prowl, you gave me my hope back. And my belief that mechs are basically good, all evidence to the contrary. But mostly it was hope.”

“Hope is a powerful thing.”

“Tell me about it.”

They fell into a thoughtful silence, hands clasped and optics turned toward the stars. Prowl thought of other questions, but Jazz seemed relaxed despite what he had just told him and the former Enforcer was unwilling to accidentally upset him. Instead, he sank into the enjoyable sensation of holding hands and simply being together.

And he was warmed by the knowledge of having been such a powerful force in Jazz’s life, even if it had been unplanned.

“I should head in,” Jazz finally broke the silence after almost a groon. “I may not be playing tonight, but I still have to go in and balance the books for the night.”

Prowl was surprised to realize that he didn’t want to end his time with the other mech so soon. “Do you have to?”

“They can wait a bit, if you want to talk more.”

“I am enjoying this time with you. Comm calls are not the same.”

The musician held up their linked hands. “No, they’re not.”

“I also cannot do this on a comm call.” Prowl gave into the impulse to lean over and press his lips against Jazz’s gently. 

“What brought that on?” Jazz asked softly, almost sounding nervous.

“You did. You, and your hope and your trust that I wasn’t just another badge on a power trip.” 

“So you’re not just trying to take advantage of me, then?”

“Never.”

“Good.” Jazz smiled. Then he leaned in for another soft kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 2:
> 
> Jazz would have been in prison FOREVER if he had been caught with those bombs. Nine or ten euphoria cocktails could take out a city block before all of them could be extinguished by the fire department.


	8. record scratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter time skips forward by about four years.

“Jazz, can I come with you?”

After this latest assault, in broad daylight in lower Iacon, Jazz wanted to say no. They had no way of knowing if the single raid on the docks was all the Decepticons had planned or if there was more coming. He wouldn’t know if he could keep the youngling safe.

But when he looked Bluestreak in the optics and saw the small, traumatized youngling Prowl had been holding in the disaster relief center instead of the almost-adult he was now, the musician nodded. “Yeah. You can come, Blue. Just do your best to keep your optics on the club, cause the rest of it… the rest of it will be like Praxus.”

Blue shuddered as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay close.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“The whole place is just… scrap. The boss and I managed to salvage a couple of tables and one of my drums but that’s it. The badges don’t think the Cons were actually targeting the club, but some of the laserfire ignited the fuel behind the bar.” Jazz sighed. “Fret says he’s not going to rebuild, so it’s back to job hunting again.”

Prowl frowned at him from the other side of the video screen. _”I’m sorry, Jazz. I know how much the club and your position as manager meant to you.”_

“Yeah. Never thought I’d like being the mech in charge, but it was good times as long as I still got to play a little.” The musician smiled sadly. “If I had the capital, I’d just open my own place. Mechs’ll need a place to blow off steam even more now.”

_”You could always open one on the base. Then the government would subsidize it.”_

Jazz’s sad smile turned into something more real. “You’re just suggesting that so that I’ll be closer to you. Next, you’ll be telling me I should enlist.”

The Praxian-built mech shrugged. _”It is an option. You would have to give up your balcony, but we would have enough space for the three of us in the officers’ wing. Bluestreak is old enough to enroll in the Academy now, if he wishes, and that would keep us all close together.”_

“Yeah, but if he doesn’t want to, then we’d have to finish his education at the base school and I don’t want to ruin the bond he has with his teachers here.” The visored mech paused, then laughed. “I can’t believe i’m actually considering it.”

 _“To be honest, neither can I. But I would very much like to have you here.”_ Prowl smiled softly. _”I miss my family._

“We miss you, too.” Jazz lifted his hand and pressed his fingers to the viewscreen, wishing the other mech was home so that he could hug him. “Let me talk with Bluestreak about my prospects and see what he thinks, since this’ll affect him in a big way no matter what. And then I’ll--”

 _”Forgive me, I have to go.”_ Prowl frowned and touched his fingers against Jazz’s on the screen. _”I’ve just been summoned to an emergency officer’s meeting. I love you.”_

“Love you too. Call us later.”

 _”I will.”_ Prowl cut the connection abruptly.

Jazz turned the viewscreen from communications to entertainment and news, hoping to hear something about what was going on at the base.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So, Blue and I have been talking about our prospects since the club went up in flames.” Jazz sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in Kup’s sitting room, “And we wanted to run an idea by you before we make a decision on anything.”

“Alright, lads. What do you need my advice on?” The teal mech settled down into his favorite chair and leaned back, taking in Jazz and Bluestreak with a thoughtful look.

“Um, not really advice,” the yongling said. “See, Jazz is thinking of enlisting and that’d be great cause we’d get a house on base with Prowl and we’d get to see him all the time again. Or most of the time, anyway. But if we do that, I would have to change schools again because this one is too far away to take the shuttle to every day, and I don’t really want to do that. And I’m really close to graduation here so I want to stay, but I know that Jazz wants to go.”

Jazz laid his hand on the younger mech’s shoulder. “What Blue’s trying to ask is, do you think maybe he could live in your spare room while he finishes up this last half-term? Prowl and I will pay his tuition and send money for energon and maintenance.”

“I’ll be enrolling in the military academy after graduation, so it really will only be for six meta-cycles or so.” The young mech turned his most intense pleading stare on the older mech.

“Stop that. You know that don’t work on me.” Kup smirked at the youngling. “Are you sure this is what you mechs want? I know how important it is for you Praxians to stay together these days.”

“Yeah, we’re sure. Blue wants to graduate with his friends, and you’re the only mech we’d trust to take care of him full time that isn’t me or Prowl.”

“Yeah. Jazz won’t even let his brother stay home alone with me for a couple of groons.”

“My brother is a gangster and an ex-convict. I got a good reason to keep you two separated.”

Kup laughed at their banter. “All right, all right. That’s enough of that, younglings. You’ve convinced me, not that it was very hard. I’d be honored to be Blue’s guardian ‘til he’s graduated.”

“Thank you, Kup!” Bluestreak launched himself out of his chair and into the older mech’s arms. “I’ll be the best houseguest ever, I promise!”

“You always are, lad. You always are.”

“Thank you, Kup.” Jazz smiled and began rehearsing what he would say to the landlord about needing to break the lease on the apartment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Lieutenant Prowl, do you have a few groons?”

“Only a few, Commander Highbrow.” Prowl turned to the other officer, surprised to have even been addressed. The Intelligence division was notorious in their rivalry with Tactical. “The new Prime has requested a meeting with our entire division at the ninth joor.”

“I’ll be quick.” The Intelligence lead smiled. “I just wanted to know if you believe that your domestic partner would be a good fit for my unit.”

“My… partner?” Prowl blinked. It was common knowledge on the base that he had a spouse, but he was rarely asked about Jazz. 

“Yes. I was sorting through the recruit applications looking for potential agents and I found his in the stack. On the pad, he has everything I’m looking for.”

“I see.” He was surprised that Jazz’s application had processed so quickly, though he was not surprised that Jazz had been accepted. “You will often find him irritating and far too cheerful, but otherwise yes. I believe he will thrive in Intelligence.”

“Excellent.” Highbrow’s smile widened. “Though, I do hope that it doesn’t cause tension at home.”

“Certainly not, Commander. Instead, you should be hoping that Tactical does not recruit him to give us an edge from the inside.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz keyed in the code he had been given and waited for the lock on the door to disengage. He stepped through the door with a tired sigh, glad to be done with traveling for the day. “Hey, hero, you home?”

“Here, Jazz.” Prowl stepped out of a side room and into the large sitting room of their new quarters. “I was making sure they had moved all of my crates this time.”

“No missing data pads this time?” The musician set his instrument cases down on the floor, making sure that the flute case didn't stick to the medical tape still holding the guitar case together, then he spread his arms out for a hug. 

“No, I moved those myself.” Prowl stepped closer and pulled his mate into his arms. He held him tightly for a moment, then leaned back enough to press a kiss to Jazz’s lips. “Welcome home, Jazz.”


	9. Nine years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Getting linked" is slang for becoming legal partners who aren't spark bonded.

Prowl stepped into their quarters and blinked in surprise. Instead of the automatic overhead lights coming on, soft mood lights flickered into life around the sitting room. They revealed a lavishly set table, laden with almost every kind of energon confection the tactician could imagine. Jazz was standing next to it, holding a small box covered in a wrapping that sparkled in the light.

“Jazz, what is all this? I thought we were taking Bluestreak out tonight while he's on holiday.”

“We are, but according to my two day pass we’re doing it tomorrow.” Jazz grinned. “Blue’s in town getting to know his uncle Ricochet tonight.”

“Oh no.” Prowl felt his wings twitch. 

“Hey, he's an adult now. We gotta let him make that choice on his own. Besides, Rico is doing a lot better now. Rehab, and he just got out of a career training school that set him up with a job at an import warehouse in Gygax.” The visored mech shook his head. “But this, to answer your question, is a date. Cause we kind of did all of this backward. Getting linked and adopting younglings is supposed to come after the courting and the engagement. We missed all the fun stuff.”

“And yet, in nine orbital cycles, I have never felt its lack. We made a family and a life filled with love, despite our tragedy.” The Praxian-built mech stepped forward and took the box from his mate. He set it on the table, then reached back to take Jazz’s hands. “What brought this on?”

The musician squeezed gently. “I’m not… It’s not like I think we’re gonna fall apart because we didn’t have dates or anything like that. I just realized I didn’t know your favorite kind of candy the other day. And then I realized I didn’t know your favorite color or if you had a favorite song and I started wondering what else I didn’t know about you that I would have learned while we were dating. We never had _time_ to find all that stuff out, but we have it now and I wanted to… I dunno. Do it right isn’t what I mean, but…”

“You want to do it before it’s too late.”

“Yes!” Jazz’s visor brightened happily. “I want to know all the things I didn’t get to find out while I still can.”

Prowl smiled softly and nodded. “I want that too. Before forces we can’t control ruin it for us.”

The intelligence agent made a face. “Had to bring those glitches up and ruin my romantic atmosphere, didn’t you?”

“The Decepticons are an inescapable part of our lives. We would not even be here right now without their intervention.”

“And that is literally the only thing I’ll _ever_ be grateful to them for.” Jazz leaned forward for a quick kiss, then used their joined hands to push Prowl toward one of the chairs flanking the table. “Now, presents. And energon. Commander Highbrow isn’t letting me come in late tomorrow.”

“I take it that he is in on your plans?” Prowl let go of his mate’s hands reluctantly and sat down.

“Mech, who do you think changed my two day pass?”

“I would not have put it past you to go to the Prime himself.” The former Enforcer chuckled and reached for the box. The copper foil peeled away easily, revealing a plain silver box with a hinged lid underneath. Prowl opened it and gasped when he saw the delicate crystal nestled in a soft pad of organic cloth. It was the unmistakable green of the huge garden that had surrounded his old precinct house and he felt the inescapable pang of grief as he remembered how beautiful it had been, even as he was grateful to have this tiny part of home again. “Jazz, how did you get this?”

“You remember how I said that Rico works for an importer now?”

“Yes.”

“I might owe him a teenie favor now.” The musician smiled. “But that look on your face is worth it.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you hardly seems like enough.” Prowl reached out with one arm and pulled Jazz into a hug. “But thank you. Of all the material gifts you could have given me, this is the most precious.”

“I’m glad you like it.” The musician leaned his head against the former Enforcer’s. “I was afraid it might be too much.”

“No. It’s perfect.”

“Oh that’s going to make it hard to upstage next orbital cycle.” Jazz’s contented smile turned down slightly as he began thinking.

“Next orbital cycle?” Prowl turned his head to look at the other mech in confusion.

“Yeah! Didn’t you realize? This is the anniversary of the day we met, hero.”

The tactician checked his calendar and realized that the intelligence agent was right. “So it is. In that spirit, then, perhaps you should be playing your guitar as well.”

“Anything you want, love. Long as I’m on time to my shift in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> Thank to everyone for their comments, squees, and encouragement. This was a fun piece and you guys made it even better! <3


End file.
